


god knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Breastfeeding, F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia





	god knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken eyes

The first time he doesn't mean for it to happen. He had been on his way back from Ros, and he gone the long way, through the wolfswood and there he had seen her. She was naked, her long red hair loose down her back, and Theon leaned against a tree, watching as she stepped into one of the hot springs. She was beautiful, Theon had always thought that, ever since he was a little boy, brought against his will to this wild, unforgiving North. 

How many nights had she sat at the edge of his bed, stroking his hair, singing to him, telling him to be brave, to be strong? He loved her for it, because Lady Stark had never treated him like a hostage. But now here, in the godswood that her husband prayed to, he watched her with a different kind of love, a longing that he did not feel for the girls at the whorehouse, or the miller's daughter. 

He watched her rub her stomach softly, whispering sweet words to her unborn child. She was the very image of a divine mother, and in the deepest recesses of his mind Theon wished it was his child she carried, that he had been the one to spill his seed deep inside her, to put that baby into her womb. 

His cock ached, still sore from his previously activities, but watching her had done this to him, and he shoved his hand down into his breeches, stroking himself hard and fast until he spent himself over his hand, leaning hard on the tree to catch his breath. 

~

The second time, Lord Stark was away in the North, dealing with House Umber. Lady Stark was almost at the end of her mother's stomach and soon she would go to the birthing bed. This worried Theon, he remembered when Bran was born, remembered the endless bloody sheets that had been brought out of her room as he sat in the hallway outside her chamber. He remembered her cries, long and painful. 

By the time he knocked on her chamber doors, he was already regretting it, his grip too tight on the small bunch of flowers in his hand. She'd opened it with a worried brow, she always worried when Lord Stark was gone, and her face brightened, lifted, when she saw Theon, and even moreso at the flowers. 

"You sweet boy," she said, and she patted one of his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his other one. "They are lovely." 

He stood awkwardly in the door way of her bed chamber as she put the flowers into a small vase, filling it with water from the jug. He could not take his eyes off the bed, and all he could see was images of her, naked and writhing, and instead of Lord Stark above her, it was him, Theon. 

"I should go," he said, and nodded politely, walking away quickly. His thoughts left him hard for hours, and eventually he walked down to the whorehouse, barely speaking as he threw a coin at owner and dragged Ros into an empty room. 

He took her on her hands and knees, her red hair loose around her. It was not as dark or thick as Lady Stark's, but it did the job, and Theon curled it around his hand, his other on her stomach, he imagined it thick and round. 

~

The third time, he was not entirely to blame. 

He found her in the library, standing precariously on a step stool, reaching for a book. "Careful, Lady Stark," he said, moving to stand behind her, his hands on her waist to steady her as she stepped down. 

"Thank you," she said, giving him a soft smile. His hands were still on her waist, and he knew he should move them, but he didn't, he only held onto her tighter, watching her face. She looked more tired then before, but baby Rickon slept little and fed often, and Theon wondered when the last time was that Lord Stark touched her. She gasped softly, suddenly, and Theon watched as her dress darkened with circles over her breasts. Her face flushed, embarassment settling in, and she pulled away from him. "I'm sorry," she said, covering herself with her shawl. "It happens sometimes. I..." she spoke softly, but Theon could tell she was in pain, and he wasn't a fool, he frequented the whorehouse enough to know how painful it was, when a woman's breasts were too full with milk. 

"Here, sit," he said, taking her arm and leading her to a large chair. She did, smiling gratefully as she sat. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for her shawl, peeling it away from her body. 

"Theon...no..." Catelyn's arms froze as he began to undo the laces at the high neck of her gown, he didn't pause, for fear she would stop him, and when he peeled away her gown, her shift was soaked through, and he could see her nipples clearly through the now translucent material. They were soft brown, the tips pressing hard against the wet linen. His fingers pulled on the strings of her shift, loosening the neck line until it fell wide open, her breasts now bare to him. 

He brushed his mouth over her nipple, wetting his lips with her milk, and then opened his mouth, carefully taking her nipple into his mouth. The spray of it surprised him, as did the taste. It was almost as sweet as the honeyed milk he had drank as a child. Catelyn's arm slid under his neck, and her other stroked his face with the tops of her fingers. Her eyes were closed, but she looked almost content as Theon continued to suckle, his own eyes closing as well. 

It was her finger on his mouth that made him open his eyes, and she smiled at him as he moved his head to the other side, taking her other breast in his mouth. His cock was so hard in his pants that Theon had to shift himself on his knees, his breeches pressing too tight against him. He wanted to touch himself, wrap his hand around his cock, her nipple in his mouth, her milk warm and sweet on his tongue. He imagined what it would feel like, to bury himself in her cunt, even just his fingers to feel her. Warm like the south, and wet like the sea. 

Theon groaned, his cock pulsing as he suddenly spent himself in his pants, like boy, still green to the ways of women. "I'm sorry," he said, his mouth coming off her nipple. "I just..."

She shook her head, stroking his face, rubbing her nipple across his lips for him to take it back into his mouth. "Shh, shh."


End file.
